Not So Mad
by NotMarge
Summary: Hello there. I'm Hatter. The one and only. And that being said, I'm here to clear a few things up.
1. Prologue

I do not own Syfy's Alice.

Should though. It's my story. Partially anyway.

Not So Mad

* * *

><p>Hello there. I'm Hatter.<p>

The one and only.

And that being said, I'm here to clear a few things up.

About me.

What I am. Who I am. Why I am.

First off, Wonderland is _not_ a kid's story.

Just in case you were misled to believe otherwise.

And anyone who says different is selling something.

Also, I don't wear _loads_ of makeup like one of your silly stage clowns.

Well, maybe just a touch of liner sometimes for flare . . . never mind.

And I don't dress in outlandish, garish clothing.

Much.

But I do wear hats.

A lot.

I _love_ hats.

A good hat is the perfect topping to a perfect cake, so they say. Whoever 'they' are.

Anyway . . .

I don't futterwacken or sing (except in the shower) or celebrate me unbirthdays.

I'm not a hundred year old ancient guy.

I don't think.

Hang on, give me a second.

Wonderland times your world . . .

Um, do you have an abacus?

Never mind, I'll figure it out later.

Anyway, I'm not quirky or barmy or mad.

Well, not frequently.

And I don't sit around aimlessly riddling at bizarre, insane outdoor tea parties with singing, hallucinogenic woodland creatures.

I mean, I do _like_ tea. I drink it all the time. It's the perfect swill for nearly any occasion. And there are so many different varieties! For instance . . .

Look, maybe it would be better if I just start from the beginning, yeah?

Back before Alice and her blue dress.

Before Jack and his snooty princeliness.

Before Charlie and his nonnies.

Back before all of it.

When I was just me.

Hatter.

* * *

><p><strong>Hey, anybody out there interested in this?<strong>

**Leave a review if you like.**


	2. Things I Would Not Recommend

I do not own Syfy's Alice.

Should though. It's my story. Partially anyway.

Not So Mad

Chapter 1: Things I Would Not Recommend

* * *

><p>I would not recommend venturing into the forest of Wabe. Or peeing on angry Jabberwock's head.<p>

I would not recommend most of the things I've done in my life, actually.

But I did them just the same.

And I'd probably do them again.

Most of them.

* * *

><p>It had been a good morning, all in all.<p>

At least in the minds of a couple of rough and tumble kids like us.

Me and March'd snuck out of the city, stealthily avoiding the Suits at any and all costs. They'd take a kid to the Queen as easily as they'd take an oyster.

Pantsed the ugly old ratcatcher. Again.

And somewhere along our wanderings, discovered a motorboat floating and tied to a rickety pier.

Never could get the trick to the pull motor thing hanging off the back.

But the ignition worked just fine.

So we took it.

And fought over who got to steer.

March won and I secretly didn't mind. He was a coupla years older than me and I gave in with my usual bluster and bluff. It seemed too big and scary for me, that boat. Like I would flip it over into the drink and drown us in the process.

Maybe when I was bigger I'd give it a shot.

We rode around the lake awhile chasing birds on the wing and arguing over the validity of cactus races versus ostrich races and other random topics that popped into our rambling brains.

As we neared the softly lapping shores of the forest of Wabe, I peered eagerly into its depths, hoping for a glimpse of a borogove or a bandersnatch. Possibly even a Jabberwock.

"There used to be knights in those forests, they say," March relayed.

I glanced over to see if he was giving me flights of fancy but he seemed just as serious and eager as I suddenly felt.

"Really?" I ventured, trying not to sound impressed.

He nodded, slowing our speed 'til we drifted along lazily on the currents of the lake.

"Yeah. They fought against the Queen and she destroyed them all."

I folded my arms across the side of our vessel and rested my head on them, staring at the copse of trees.

"They were crafty though," he continued adamantly. "If we could find one, maybe he could get rid of the Queen."

Then my mother wouldn't resort to Tea for her comfort. She'd pick herself up and be a person again, a functional mother maybe.

My father would come back for her.

And we'd be finally be a family.

I sat up and looked at March.

"Well, what're we waiting for?"

* * *

><p>We didn't find the mythical knights in the forest of Wabe.<p>

But we did find something else in the woods that defied imagination.

An angry Jabberwock.

It broke out of its den and roared our deaths at the top of its voice.

"Climb that tree!" March yelled at me as the roaring creature stormed at us.

We did, each his own towering, sky straining structure.

And waited.

The Jabberwock stomped around below, rageful and frustrated that we were out of reach. Every so often it'd bang its head into one of our trees and rattle our guts. But apparently that hurt its head and so it eventually stopped. Which was good 'cause me tiny boy bits were getting a bit chafed and tender.

So we waited, each perched on a limb, clinging to the trunk in a death grip.

The Jabberwock didn't seem to be losing any steam at all.

But I had a growing, more urgent problem.

"March? I have to pee."

I tried not to sound petulant. He sighed in frustration anyway.

"Hold it, Hatter."

Easy for him to say. He hadn't drunk a whole concoction of Antiquated (guess that's why it failed, yeah?) Courage before setting forth on this little venture of ours.

"Okay."

A few seconds later . . .

"But, March, I need to _go_."

He looked exasperated.

"Seriously?"

I felt like a fool, but there was no denying the truth.

"Well, yeah."

March considered this. Then gestured.

"Well then, get him."

I stared at him in disbelief. He grinned wickedly like Chesh stealing a thought.

I looked down at the raging monster below us.

_I really shouldn't . . ._

But when was I ever going to get another opportunity like this?

So I did it.

I peed on the Jabberwock's head.

He didn't like it. He shook his hand like a dog shaking off water off. He roared. He sneezed. I think.

_Hope he has a short memory span. _

Vaguely, I thought I heard a voice echoing in the distance. Something with a 'nonny' in it or something.

The Jabberwock caught the sound as well and stomped off in the directions of the warble.

March and I waited for ten minutes. Or, in kid Wonderland time, roughly a thousand years.

The great beast's trumpeting had faded. So had the warbling.

Finally, I couldn't take the quiet anymore.

"March?"

He didn't glance my way.

"Yeah?"

He seemed to be only hazily aware of my presence.

"I want to go home."

He didn't answer right away. Seemed to be caught up in something.

"Yeah, okay. But can you _hear_ it?"

I listened. All was quiet. Eerily quiet.

"Hear what?"

His voice was dreamy, as if he were in another world.

"The trees. The forest. The _world_."

I listened some more. Didn't really hear anything. Didn't want to admit it.

"Yeah, I guess so."

He sighed again. I couldn't figure why this time.

"Okay, let's go."

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, so according to NotMarge (yeah, we're mates), I'm supposed to talk <strong>_**more**_** down **_**here**_**. Be convivial and what not to the readers and reviewers or some such thing.**

**So hello, **_**ladies**_**. Many sincere thanks to ImagineWho (I don't know, who?), BubbleWrappedKitty (I think we've got those in Wonderland actually) Aiyobi Uzamaki (sorry, love, don't think I can pronounce that), and kelleyj (sounds like one of Alice's pop singers) for encouraging my story to continue. **

**But don't expect me to lay this story out all neat and nice and in a chronological line for you. Where'd be the fun in that?**

**And uh, . . . yeah, that's about it. Yep.**


	3. No Fairy-Tale, This

I do not own Syfy's Alice.

Should though. It's my story. Partially anyway.

Not So Mad

Chapter 2: No Fairy-Tale, This

* * *

><p>How to describe being a kid in Wonderland?<p>

Hmm, well that's a thinker.

I'll give it a whirl.

Ever been to circus or a carnival funhouse?

Now, take that, turn it on its ear, take away the cotton candy and gumdrops and replace it with hallucinogenic 'shrooms.

Like that.

Only not at all.

I had a mum.

She was addicted to Tea.

I had a da.

He left 'cause me mum was addicted to Tea.

I had a cat.

But me mum traded him for Tea.

I had a best friend.

His name was March. He was like me.

He hated Tea.

* * *

><p>Guess I should backtrack a little.<p>

Kinda jumped in the water without checking for singing walruses, yeah?

Wonderland's a lot like places here in this world.

The further down you go, the more base the nightlife.

I was down there on level with the giant Snails and mudslugs.

What I mean to say is, we were low.

Only I didn't know it.

I just thought everybody was hungry and cold.

I thought everybody scrounged for food.

I thought everybody's mum was a shriveled up Tea-head.

I thought that's just the way life was.

Fact of the matter, she was always there when I came home. No latchkey kid for me.

Sometimes that doesn't mean too much, to be honest.

* * *

><p>And a'course, Wonderland is a little unique in the naming department.<p>

See, we're given temporary names at birth.

And when we're older we develop our own names. Or they're given to us.

I don't remember really having a name in the beginning.

Me Tea-addled mum mostly just called me 'boy'.

As in 'boy, bring Mummy some more Tea'.

And 'boy, remember to stay away from the Suits. They'll take you to the Queen and she'll cut off your head quicker than a cat's grin'.

Once, after I became the proprietor of the Tea Shop and came to visit, she mistakenly thought I was a 'Tea-paying suitor' come to call.

I wasn't.

But I did bring her Tea.

Me best seller.

Peace.

Because aside from everything that had and hadn't happened between us, she was still me mum.

Used up and tossed away by the Queen and her minions.

Once she had been a beautiful, blonde haired beauty practically worshipped in the courts of the Queen of Hearts.

She'd been wrapped deep in the clutches of Queen herself and given everything she could possibly desire.

And then my father, a Suit set to protect the Queen, had fallen in love with her.

The Queen grew angry and jealous of my mother. And decided to have her killed.

My father gave up everything to save her.

He sold out his friends, his family, everything to save her.

And took her away to reside in the dredging depths of Wonderland where no one would ever find her.

But _something_ found her.

The lust for Tea.

And me da stayed as long as he could.

And did whatever he had to provide her with her Tea.

When I was babe, I've heard tell, I screamed day and night because my mother's body was no longer supplying me with Tea.

I shook and wailed and no one could make me stop.

Me da tried to comfort me as me Tea-addled mum turned away into her cups.

I remember him when I was a young child.

He was gaunt and grim.

He hated that he had abandoned his family and friends for the empty, hollow shell of the woman who no longer thanked him but only begged for more, more, more.

And me, the needy child. Needy for sustenance, for love, for guidance and support.

I remember the last thing he said to me on the day he left our meager flat and disappeared.

"Stay away from the Tea, boy. Whatever you do. Promise me you'll stay away from the Tea."

I promised I would.

I didn't.

* * *

><p><strong>Confession's good for the soul, they say. Who <em>are<em> these mysterious 'they' who know so much anyhow? Well, anyway, it's not doing me much good, I'll admit.**

**But I promised I'd tell me story properly and some of it ain't all cheerful nonnies and oyster smiles.**

**Anyway, a tip o' my hat to ImagineWho and kelleyj who enjoy a good laugh now and then it seems. Per'aps you'll forgive a bit o' serious here and there, yeah? **


	4. The Sage Rodent Specialist

I do not own Syfy's Alice.

Should though. It's my story. Partially anyway.

Not So Mad

Chapter 3: The Sage Rodent Specialist

* * *

><p>"Hey, kid, get away from that pier! You'll fall in!"<p>

I jerked in surprise at the sudden intrusion, nearly falling in anyway.

He shambled over and pulled me off from the edge.

He was slimy and foul. With long stringy hair curtaining a stubbly, unshaven face. He stank of rats. His grip was pinching and awkward. I pushed him away roughly, swiping at the tears on my bruised face with the back of a dirty hand.

"You stink," I replied harshly, trying to cover for the fact that I'd been crying. Again.

He did stink. Always has. Always will. It's the cost of being the Ratman.

He was younger then than he is now. But then again, so was I.

But still greasy. Still smelly. Still the longhaired, grimy Ratman.

"And you've been sitting alone crying like a baby," he countered, not really unkindly.

I glared at him defiantly and said the most intelligent, argumentative statement I could muster.

"Nuh-uh!"

He raised a knowing eyebrow, holding my gaze stubbornly.

"Then what _have_ you been doing?"

I couldn't think of a single thing.

He nodded, moved around me, and knelt down to check his traps.

I watched him, pretending I wasn't curious.

Finally I couldn't resist.

"Why do you do that?"

He glanced back at me over one raincoated shoulder.

"What?"

I pointed.

"That. Catch rats. Don't you know it makes you smell bad?"

He stuffed the last of his captured booty into the bag and stood up slowly. Turning, he squared his shoulders and in that moment I saw more natural dignity in him than any other individual I had ever and would ever encounter in all of Wonderland before Alice.

"We all gotta job. We all gotta take care of ourselves and our families, boy."

I stood there and stared at him, completely stunned.

He shrugged nonchanltly.

"If this keeps food in my family's mouths, then I'll smell like rats and not complain, make no mistake."

His statement hit me full in the face. My brain short-circuited and my eyes watered up all over again.

I resisted the urge to hug him. To ask him to let me be part of his family. To tell him he was a good man.

Instead, I childishly returned to the most important topic of all: me.

"Me mum don't take care of me like that," I complained pitifully. "She's got the Tea."

He stared me dead in the eye.

"Then you'll have to grow up, stop whimpering, and take care of _her_," he answered with finality.

Me fragile composure broke. I couldn't help it.

"But I don't _want_ to! It's not fair!"

He shrugged again, undisturbed by me petulant outburst.

"Life ain't fair. Don't excuse you from your responsibilities. You _still_ gotta be there when they pass the hat."

He reached out and lightly slapped my hat brim. I glared at him, readjusting it slightly, hoping it wouldn't stink of rat forever.

But I couldn't let it go just yet. I simply couldn't.

"What if I don't _want_ to?" I challenged obstinately.

This didn't faze him either.

"Ain't 'want'. Just 'do'. That's what it is to be a good person. Like you and me."

I resumed me glaring though it was becoming a tiresome exercise.

"How do _you_ know I'm a good person? You don't know me, _Ratty_!"

I tried to make it sound like an insult but he smiled anyway. I could see his rotted teeth. They were grey. And worn. And thin.

"Rats ain't the only thing I know, boy. I can see in you right down to your guts. You're a good person. You just have to _act_ like it."

I didn't know what to do with the Ratman. Nobody had really shown any belief in me at all other than what _I_ could do for _them_. He simply believed _I_ was _good_ because _I_ was _me_.

It was a big thought that I stubbornly let fly right over me little hatted head.

"I don't have to act like _anything_, _Ratty_!" I shot back.

Then I stomped away and didn't look back.

But I thought about it later.

I thought about it plenty.

And eventually decided I wanted to be like the Ratman.

Only not so ugly.

Or smelly.

Or ratty.

* * *

><p><strong>And here you smugly thought you knew everything there was to know about ole' Ratty, eh? Well, then you were wrong then, weren't you? There's always more underneath the skin. No matter how smelly that skin might be.<strong>

**_Sounds_ like the Hatter, Joellen818? Well _a'course_ it would! I _am _the Hatter! Who else would I be? *pause* You're not on the Tea, are ya?**

**That bein' said, thanks for readin' it all in one swoop and bein' so encouragin', love.**


	5. What's a Hatter Without His Hat?

I do not own Syfy's Alice.

Should though. It's my story. Partially anyway.

Not So Mad

Chapter 4: What's a Hatter Without His Hat?

* * *

><p>I vividly remember the day I obtained me very first hat.<p>

In this world, I'd guess you'd say I was about eight.

Walking along one day and wind blowing through the back alleys and down into the yawning chasms past the sidewalks.

I was hungry and cold and alone.

I was angry and sullen without really being able to verbalize specifically why.

Nothing really new for me then.

And then it came drifting down from the higher levels of the city.

It was grey and black plaid striped. Ragged around the edges.

It was headed for the open space beyond the footpath.

I watched its descent apathetically.

And then without warning, me insides suddenly clenched up and screamed.

_I WANT THAT HAT!_

I waited until the very last second and jumped straight up as high as I could.

And missed.

It fell beyond me grasp and I sighed.

Just as it floated down past my vision, it stopped.

And hovered.

I watched it, mystified.

Then the hat rose slowly, flipped over once and started making curly cues in the air.

A smile appeared below it.

Then eyes.

The vague semblance of a nose and whiskers.

"Up and down and all around goes the little hat . . ." the mouth singsonged.

The disembodied voice was deep and mellifluous. It immediately held a hypnotic sway to my captivated ears. It was a beautifully dangerous, low, predatorial voice.

But all I could see was the hat.

"Now it's lost and now it's found; what will you give the cat?"

The hat hovered just out of my reach. To tilt forward and clasp it in my greedy little hands would send me over the abyss. Screaming to my death. Hardly any time at all to enjoy my newly coveted prize.

Still, I considered it seriously.

"Little boy with bruised brown eyes; forever formulating, formulating lies," the entity continued.

_Oh brilliant, more rhymes._

Now I was aggravated and feeling dangerously exposed.

"I don't want that stupid hat," I ventured insolently.

Though my eyes still followed it in its wandering paths.

A snicker from the empty space below the hat. Then it continued.

"Holes in your clothes, holes in your lies, what will you do to obtain your prize?"

Whoa, major red flag this was.

Rule 1 of this world or any other: Never promise anything to anybody that you don't trust. Or anyone you do for that matter.

Rule 2 of this world or any other: Note above especially if you are a kid. Or anyone.

Still, it was a lovely hat. And I was just a destitute kid.

"Whaddya want?" I asked suspiciously, still eyeing the titillating hat.

The hat seemed to giggle and my blood ran cold at the sound.

"Stone of Wonderland, lost to the knights, sledgehammer man lends to the fights."

It made no sense to me. _Why_ would, _how_ would, _I_ find the Stone of Wonderland?

I was just a kid.

"Caterpillar's chosen ready to fight; will you stand or take your flight?"

I rubbed my temples absently with my dirty fingertips. I was getting a dull, throbbing headache from attempting to decipher the rhymes and see a face that wasn't technically there.

"I'm all done here," I adamantly told the floating hat. "I'm all rhymed out. Now give me the hat or let me get out!"

_Oh blimey, now _I'm_ rhyming._

The hat hovered above my head, teasingly close yet still out of reach. The nearly invisible creature keeping it from me giggled again.

Finally I gave in.

"Fine, whatever, I'll assist the wiggly worm and find a construction fella to help 'em too. Now can I have the hat?" I huffed, holding out my hand.

The eyes seemed to glow for moment as the hat danced above my head. The voice wrapped its last resonances around me almost as a caring embrace.

"Your words are your stock and trade, my lad. Beware, take care they do not run you bad."

And then the voice and its floating features dissipated, leaving the hat to fall into my reaching hands.

I nearly dropped it in my exuberant joy.

Shame would have been, that. Especially after surviving so many brain-numbing rhymes.

Gripping it tightly, I backed up against the crumbling wall as far away from the ledge as I could get.

"Got my new hat, no thanks to the cat," I muttered to thin air.

_Oh Jabberwock ballocks. There I go again._

I might have caught a fading giggle faintly on the wind but I couldn't be sure.

I jammed my new hat on my head and hurried away.

* * *

><p><strong>I've still got that hat. Or did in Wonderland rather. Comfy lil' thing it was.<strong>

**Thanks ever so much to FanWriter83 and Eliri93 for your encouragement here. You will of course remember to write, won't you?**


	6. A Warning Against Strange Teas

I do not own Syfy's Alice.

Should though. Since it's my story.

Not So Mad

Chapter 5: A Warning Against Strange Teas

* * *

><p>You have to be careful with imbibing strange substances, I've learned.<p>

They can lead to massive headaches and mysterious aches and pains.

And run-ins with vampiric sunflowers.

Maybe I should explain.

I was a young man. A teenager in your world, I guess you'd say.

I was attending this polite and well-mannered gathering of close and trusted companions.

Nope, nope, said I wouldn't lie.

I was at this mile high Tea party with a bunch of people I'd hardly ever met before.

Yeah, that's more to the truth.

And somebody passed me a flask of, well, _something_.

I was young.

I was immortal.

I was an idiot.

And I drank it straight off.

I didn't even ask any questions or anything.

Honestly, to this day I'm _still_ not sure _what_ that Tea was.

Euphoria, perhaps. Or Elation.

I can tell you it was orange-ish and smelled like the illusory remembrances that float in on zephyrs of waking dreams.

It tasted like bitterness, then sweetness, then death, and then boneless wonder.

Then it swept me away and made me taste colors I'd never smelled. Hear voices I'd never touched.

I've never experienced anything like it before or since.

Because once was enough for an entire lifetimes of lime-bathing rapture.

But it was plenty good, I can tell you that.

More than that, it was _amazing_.

Until it wasn't.

And I woke up in a field. Flat out on me back. Hat still clutched in one hand, thankfully.

Blue skies with white puffy clouds held sway overhead.

All those clouds had amazing, constantly-shifting shapes, fantastically wise voices whispered titillatingly confusing stories.

As I stared at them and held deep and meaningful conversations with each one, my other senses kicked in one by one.

The green grass beneath me was made of shards of ragged glass and tipped with searing fire.

And I couldn't bring meself to care.

Me tongue tasted like the underside of a dead Bandersnatch's mud-smeared carcass. It was swollen and dry because all the beautiful, delightful Tea was all gone, drained out of me over saturated pores as I lay boneless and lost.

I could smell the truth of the air and light within each sunbeam. The beginnings of the world and end of it all. A wet, dusty, dry fire of all consuming pity and finality. And the sweet light and relief of oblivion.

Sweet singing filled the hollows of me head, high-pitched, rhythmically hypnotizing.

I needn't attempt to understand the words, for there were none. These tunes being sung were created back before the dawn of the universe.

To understand them would be to hold the mystic forces of life in all beings great and small.

I found I was able to move me eyes a little and rolled them lazily to the right.

The vampiric sunflowers were staring at me.

I knew they were vampiric sunflowers, you see. Because when I looked at them and they turned their heads to face me, they smiled.

And I could see their fangs, bared and dripping with deadly venom.

Then they hissed, bending low to reach the sweet, tangy blood in my sluggish veins.

The notion of me impending death at the biting teeth of blood-sucking perennials caused me entire body to jerk into action.

I clumsily dragged me disheveled, Tea-sickened self out of there quicker than you could say lemon cakes and custard drops and yours on bottoms and mines on tops.

And made a serious decision.

_No more Tea._

Which I'm sorry to say I didn't keep.

Well, not yet anyway.

* * *

><p><strong>According to the guy in the secondhand clothing shop I frequent, I believe the colloquial term for the condition I was experiencing was the I was hiiiiiiigh. He also mentioned some bloke or other by the god-like moniker of 'Titus' but I haven't spoken with him on the issue yet. Apparently he's busying himself killing babies with comedy or some such thing. Sounds frightful and disturbing to say the least. <strong>

**And I don't recommend it.**


	7. Playing with the Queen of Hearts

I do not own Syfy's Alice.

Should though. Since it's my story and all.

Not So Mad

Chapter 6: Playing with the Queen of Hearts

* * *

><p>Now, to be honest, most of your tales and stories of Wonderland are just crazy little twists on a more disturbing truth.<p>

But some of them edge close enough up to the line of Wonderality.

The Queen of Hearts is one of them.

I thought I had it all wrapped up and cinched, me double life of Tea Shop owner and undercover Resistance unsung hero. All wrapped up like a present on Futterwaken Day (Hey, I didn't _deny_ we had Futterwaken Day, I said _I_ didn't _dance_ it. Big difference.).

Nice and snug and tight and clean, me and all me secret identities.

I was wrong.

They were on to my scheme of teaming up with the Resistance and skimming off the top of the Hearts' commission to provide what I could for Dodo's refugees thing.

And when the Suits stepped into me Tea Shop, I knew I'd stepped into some deep borogove droppings, make no mistake.

They arrested me. Right in front of all me Tea addled patrons. And Dormie.

Who nearly gave itself a heart attack amidst the repeated spectacle of fainting dead away and reviving long enough to offers them briberies of Tea.

I'da been embarrassed if I wasn't so convinced I was about to be dispatched and me body turned into shrubbery mulch.

* * *

><p>I remember the trip to the Hearts Casino as a blur. With pretty much the same thought theme running through me head over and again.<p>

_Never see that tree again. Goodbye, Tree. That's the last of that dilapidated old warehouse, then. Farewell, Pristine Lake Water. You know, I'll really miss that nauseating sensation of stomach bile that means I'm not dead and bloated . . ._

* * *

><p><em>Blimey, this is a posh place to die.<em>

That was me first thought when they opened the door to the Queen's court.

Bright and white and red and shiny.

Clean looking and immaculate.

Not a drop of blood anywhere to be seen on the polished white floor.

Everyone standing just so with carefully blank expressions on their politely drawn faces.

I was terrified.

"Hello, Hatter."

And there she was.

The Queen herself.

She should have been someone's lovable auntie. Comfortably round woman in a loose red and white muumuu.

She should have been gossiping and playing at cards and sneaking you sweeties and taking you off on holiday.

Her melodious, refined voice was cordial, on the surface. Underneath it was swimming with slippery eels of madness and barely contained fury.

And one look in her forbidding face made it perfectly clear she was plotting me imminent demise.

I set meself still and replied with the air of one attending a luxurious party instead of me own beheading.

"Good day, Your Majesty."

I wasn't being polite in the hopes I would live. That was a null and void notion from the get-go.

I was being genial because I was the Hatter.

And the Hatter is always smooth.

I thought she would interrogate me. Have me beaten. Pronounce me sentence without trial or consideration.

I was wrong.

She did something much worse.

She recited poetry at me.

Approaching me slowly and with great subtle flair of macabre, she set herself upon me as a slinking serpent to its prey.

"The Queen of Hearts . . . she made some tarts . . . all on a summer's day," she recited lightly, in her carefully cultivated royal nuances.

Walking 'round me in a slowly tightening orbit, speaking deliberately and in the quiet enthusiasm and aplomb of the truly mad.

"The Knave of Hearts . . . he _stole_ those tarts . . . and took them clean away."

I resolved to keep calm and evenly track her approach. Well aware I might unscrew me own neck from attempting to maintain a line of sight.

"The King of Hearts . . . called for the tarts . . . and _beat_ the knave full sore."

She was smiling now, like a shark having caught the scent of living blood.

I could feel the suits gathering around me, around us. Her piercing gaze driving directly into me brain. I was very close to death, I knew. I repressed a shudder.

"The Knave of Hearts . . . brought _back_ the tarts . . . and vowed he'd steal _no_ _more_."

She stopped walking. Dead center in front of me. Silent and waiting.

I knew she wanted me to burst forth in confession and beg forgiveness.

I wouldn't do it.

I set still inside meself, picked up me defensive slabs of fortitude and began to shore up me mental barriers.

"Hatter?"

_. . . why is a raven like a writing desk . . ._

"Yes, Majesty?" I replied, trying to sound casual.

Her eyes bore into me soft tissues like an iron drill. Her false smile dried up into a intense frown.

"Are _you_ the Knave, Hatter?"

I swallowed slowly. Took a deep breath slowly.

_Do it all slowly. Don't let her see you sweat. Don't rush. Be still. Be calm._

Shook me head slowly.

"Nope. I'm the Hatter. As you can see. By me hat."

_Shut up. Don't talk too much. Makes you sound nervous._

"You wouldn't . . . _steal_ from your dear Queen . . . would you?"

I shook my head, keeping me eyes trained on her.

_. . . clockwork's not ticking properly . . ._

"No, a'course not," I responded easily.

She smiled briefly, eyes glittering like black, cutting diamonds. She waited another moment for me to lose composure.

I didn't. Was a close shave though.

Finally she spoke. Her words were a deception. Her voice was a lie.

"Good, that's _good_."

She patted me arm affectionately. I could feel the hate and cold pouring off her in waves, freezing me flesh to the bone.

_. . . maybe crumbs in the butter . . ._

"Because if you do, I'll cut out your heart. And cut off your head."

I nodded, keeping me face relaxed and focused on her hypnotic gaze.

"Wouldn't expect any less, your Majesty."

She nodded, her searching eyes narrowing further.

"Excellent. With that in mind, the good Doctors have prepared a . . ." she paused and smiled again, her painted lips looking hungry and bloody. ". . . _tutorial_ of sorts for you. To remind you of your _place_ in _my_ realm, Hatter."

Me rattling heart dropped dead into me feet and it was all I could do to remain upright and stoic.

She tilted her head slightly to a pair of the Suits over my shoulder and they came forward to claim me.

"You _will_ let me know what you think of their little . . . seminar, _won't_ you, Hatter?"

And then they took me away.

* * *

><p><strong>Yeah, bit of a cliffhanger, that. But the telling shook me so that I needed to stop and revive meself with a cuppa. <strong>

**There's more to the telling if you'd care to hear. But I suggest reading it in the light. I for one will be penning it sitting in a warm, sunny spot and still be chilled ice cold, if I'm honest.**

**So now that you've been fairly warned . . .**

**Tip o' me hat to the lovely HardfacedQueenofMisadventure. Who, Chesh? Ah, yes, I remember that lil' trickster quite well. More to tell, there. More indeed, if you'll lend an ear, my dear. *sighs heavily* Never really did get over that rhyming though, did I?**


	8. The Cruel Tutorial of Dee and Dum

I do not own Syfy's Alice.

Should though. Since it's my story and all.

Not So Mad

**(I've been advised to warn you that this chapter is a bit gruesome should you choose not to read.)**

Chapter 7: The Cruel Tutorial of the Dee and Dum

* * *

><p>They made me watch. They made me bear witness.<p>

And I didn't stop it.

I wasn't a coward, mind. Not exactly.

But I kept thinking of them. All of them.

The refugees of Wonderland.

If I openly raised me hand against the Queen, the Suits, or the Doctors, I would fail them.

Because then I would be caught and tortured or killed. Then the refugees would go that much hungrier, that much more destitute.

And so I allowed those horrible creatures to make that one sacrifice to save hundreds, maybe thousands.

I wished I hadn't.

I didn't want to.

It was the hardest decision I've ever had to make.

It tasted like bitter fruit and ash in me mouth. Rotted tea leaves and shame.

And I'll never forget it.

Or her.

Or them.

The 'doctors'.

Dee and Dum.

Round, bald, psychotic, deadly little imps.

Faces like babies and hearts like maggot-filled corpses.

Frolicking gleefully in their deadly Truth Room.

The Truth Room was different for each person, I'd heard tell.

But one thing's the same.

And once you go in, you don't come back out. Alive.

For this young woman, no more than sixteen or seventeen in your world, the room was a sickly yellow and full of slithering, hissing, roiling snakes. They crawled the walls, wrapped themselves around her limbs, and kissed her face with their slick, forked tongues.

She was brave. As brave as she could be.

They, the doctors, they made me watch them do it to her.

Break her mind and her body.

That pretty little oyster.

As a lesson to not anger the Queen of Hearts.

"She's valuable to us. She's got pearls inside her. She's got the key to our Tea," one hissed in rhyme.

Then he tasered her and she screamed, tears streaming down her bruising face.

"You've got no pearls, none that we see, less valuable than a buzzing bee," the other quipped to me, his words like searing liquid gold.

He zapped her this time and she wailed long and quaveringly, her bloodshot green eyes floated up to me, beseeching me help.

There was blood in her short, mussed red hair, running down her pale face. And smeared on her quivering lips where she'd bitten them in her agony.

"Do you see," the merry doctors chorused, turning to me. "Little Bee, do you see?"

I nodded numbly, unable to speak, unable to look away. Unable to save her.

The refugees of Wonderland, they needed me. I could see. Oh yes, I could see.

And then the cruel monsters continued their brutal assault.

And she lasted as long as she could. The tender little oyster.

They made her cry and scream.

They made her beg and plead.

Then they made her die.

And when it was over, they made me remove her lifeless body and toss it down the garbage chute.

As I was unstrapping the bloodied cuffs, me face locked in a stone façade to hide the seething and screaming rage underneath, I felt them watching me with a lusty, repellant hunger.

When I rose up with the dead woman lolling bonelessly in me arms, I saw the doctors smiling. Like demonic vultures waiting to pick me flesh clean to the bone.

Their atrociously twisted expressions shouted so loudly I was nearly deafened where I stood.

_One day it'll be _you_ in that chair, Hatter. And then the fun will really begin, yes it will._

_Yes, such fun. Such fun indeed. We'll torture you until your insides are your outsides and your outsides are soaked in crimson._

_You'll _beg_ to be reborn in death. _

_And we won't give it to you. No way, no how._

_No, not us, not us, Little Bee. _

I held their penetrating gazes only because I chose to, cradling the dead woman in me trembling arms.

_Nope, not me. I'm a survivor. I'll do whatever I must._

_We shall see, Little Bee. We shall see._

They watched like voracious little demons to see if I would break.

And I did not.

Not until I was away.

And then I locked meself alone away within the inner chambers of me Tea Shop. Locked all the doors and shut off all the lights.

And alone in the blind embrace of the thick, lonely darkness, I broke very badly indeed.

* * *

><p><strong>Told you this wasn't a kid's story. Didn't I? I <strong>_**did**_** warn you, yeah?**

**Sorry you hung around for the telling, HardFacedQueenofMisadventure and kelleyj?**

**Well, next time you come 'round to me door, I'll try and find a funny or a sweetie to give you. 'Cause I'm a not a intentionally cruel Hatter. But an honestly dishonest one, as it were.**


End file.
